My Gift of Love, A New Vacuum

I don’t know what I was thinking. Mother’s Day was coming up and I wanted to get something really special for Carol, my wonderful bride of only a few years. And now a Mom, with our first little girl. Housework was a big part of her life, her lot in life, you might say. And she often mentioned how poorly the vacuum cleaner was working. So I decided that it was the perfect opportunity. An opportunity to show her the magnitude of my love. Not just something ordinary and mundane. Not something that would wilt and be thrown out onto the compost pile in a week or two. Not some chocolates that would soon be eaten up and have nothing left to remind her of my nice, loving gift. Instead, a new vacuum cleaner. Besides, I could kill two birds with one stone, turning a necessary purchase into a “gift”.

I was sure she would be elated. Her work would be made easier. Her wonderful husband splurging to get her this fine piece of machinery. I could hardly wait until Sunday to give it to her.

Surprise! Oh, not hers, but my own surprise. Dismay. She wasn’t nearly as overjoyed as I had anticipated. In fact, there was not even a smile, not even a smirky little fake smile. No big hearted gratitude. Merely a curt, obligatory thank you. I still didn’t get it. Not until a few days later when she had the courage to explain to me how she felt. A vacuum cleaner, as a gift, meant to her that my love was conditioned upon her worth as a housekeeper. There was no love or romance expressed in receiving a vacuum cleaner.

I really don’t know what I was thinking. I got her some belated flowers, or candy, or something. But it wasn’t the same. The damage was done.

Carol is not even my mom. But she is the mother of my children. An incredible mother, I might add. So now I try to give her a gift expressive of my true love. Flowers, for one. My son Jon always gives her flowers, too. He didn’t learn it from me. He’s smarter than his Dad. Not just flowers or chocolates, though, but also a card. Always a card that says, “Love always!”

In the children’s book, Sidney and Norman, by Phil Vischer, two pigs are invited to Elm Street for a meeting with God. The one pig, who is neat, fastidious, and highly disciplined is told by God, “I love you. But you must stop being so critical of everyone else who can’t perform like you do.” The other pig is ashamed to meet God, but musters up courage and overcomes his fear. And this is what God had to say to him. “First of all, I want to tell you that I love you. Secondly, I want to tell you again, I love you. And thirdly," after a long pause, "I love you.”

There is power in love. And vacuum cleaners, I now know, have nothing to do with love!

By love alone God changes our hearts. He told me that one time, and I believe it.